Bǎihé returned home, her body longing for rest. Last night's sleep had been mercifully decent, and today had unfolded better than she had expected. She felt a quiet gladness that Yíchén himself had escorted her back—a gesture that struck her as unexpectedly sweet. He was a strange man, mysterious yet approachable. Something about him compelled her to open her heart. Perhaps it was his calmness, the ease with which he listened without judgment, or his sharp mind that always seemed ready with reasoned advice. No wonder he is Haoyu's advisor, she thought. He is steady, like still water.
Inside her chamber, Hépíng had already prepared her bath, steam rising from the wooden tub perfumed with oils, the warm glow of scented candles dancing against the carved walls.
But exhaustion won. Bǎihé leapt onto her bed with a small sigh, sinking into the silk quilts.
"If that is all, Gōngzhǔ Fang, I shall take my leave," Hépíng said softly, bowing.
Bǎihé remained silent.
Hépíng reached for the door when Bǎihé's voice broke the stillness.
"Wait. I am sorry if I seemed rude yesterday."
Hépíng froze. Slowly, she turned, then dropped to her knees, forehead nearly touching the polished floor.
"No, Gōngzhǔ. It is I who should apologize. I should never have pressed you—you could have given me the pouch to return instead of burdening yourself."
Bǎihé sat upright, her gaze gentle. "I wanted to return it myself. It was my choice. Please, rise."
Tears glistened in Hépíng's eyes as she stood. "It must have been painful, seeing him when you did not wish to."
Bǎihé exhaled, crossing the room to her maid. "Wángzǐ Feng and I... we reconciled. We are friends again." She smiled, though her cheeks flushed pink.
"Friends," Hépíng echoed, uncertain.
"Oh—not in that sense," Bǎihé said quickly, flustered. "We are still engaged... and we love each other." She lowered her head, embarrassed by her own admission.
Hépíng's lips curved into a faint smile. "Congratulations, Gōngzhǔ."
"Thank you. Now wipe your eyes, and rest. Tomorrow I am riding with Haoyu, and you will come with me."
"Why me?" Hépíng asked, startled.
"Why not? Fresh air and a ride through the city will do you good."
"But—"
"That is all," Bǎihé said firmly, ushering her toward the door. "Now go. Good night, Hépíng!"
The door closed, leaving Hépíng in the cool night air of the corridor. She walked slowly back to the servants' quarters, heart heavy, sweat clinging to her palms, anxiety gnawing at her chest.
⸻
Beyond the palace walls, Yíchén lingered by the gates, his gaze distant. After the performance at the Plum House, he and Bǎihé had exchanged only a few words, yet her presence still lingered with him—gentle, unchanging. She cared deeply for Haoyu, that much was clear, and the thought unsettled him more than he admitted.
"Wei Yíchén!"
Liang's voice broke his reverie.
Yíchén turned, his eyes narrowing.
"Apologies," Liang whispered as he approached. "I forgot—we are to remain discreet."
"You always forget," Yíchén muttered, tapping his shoulder before they walked together into the shadows.
"The constable's son is in our possession," Liang reported in a low voice.
"Tao succeeded, then."
"Yes. And by tomorrow evening, news of Duyi's death will reach Límíng—perhaps sooner."
"Good. The scene?"
"Cleared. No trace remains. We also found an arrow marked with the Límíng sun emblem. One of the appointed bandits was a palace guard. As you requested, we planted the arrow."
Yíchén's expression shifted in satisfaction.
"But... why leave such evidence?" Liang asked, cautious.
"Because First Princess Lán will involve herself in the investigation," Yíchén said after a pause. "And when she does, I want her to find the arrow."
Liang swallowed and nodded, deciding not to press further.
"A letter has been sent to Duyi's father," Liang continued. "Will he agree to cooperate?"
"He must. He is vital to our design. As for Duyi... I will see him tomorrow."
Liang smirked faintly. "And what of the princess? I heard you escorted her tonight. Did you manage not to make her cry this time?"
Yíchén's silence was answer enough.
"Ah, don't say it. It's fine," Liang chuckled. "She wept at yesterday's performance anyway."
"Enough." Yíchén's tone cut through the night. "Ready the horses. Tomorrow, I ride with both of them."
Liang's grin faded into seriousness. "The prince's plan—time is short. Less than two weeks remain until Gōngzhǔ Fang's birthday, and still we have no map."
"That is why," Yíchén said coolly, "I placed a spy among the palace guards. We wait, we watch, and we move when the moment arrives."
Liang shook his head with a sigh. "Always one step ahead, Wei Yíchén."